Downtown London fixture Roy McDonald dies at 80

Roy McDonald lived his life challenging the world to take a closer look.

He was the downtown London fixture, the skinny old hippie with the long beard, the rumpled second-hand clothes and a suit jacket covered in buttons, standing outside Joe Kool’s reciting his poetry, happily coaxing the people on Richmond Row to listen and ask what he had in his two heavy, duct-taped plastic bags of papers and books.

He did it his way, no doubt about it

He was the quiet philosopher, almost Dumbledore-like, sitting at the table of a McDonald’s or Tim Hortons, busily working on his writing or inviting people to join him for a coffee.

He was the biggest booster of London’s arts scenes, a fixture at openings and readings and festivals, often handing out flyers on the streets and championing strangers who quickly became friends.

Roy McDonald, 1987.

“He wanted to stand out, he wanted to make his own statement. He wanted to be the completely original Roy McDonald, one of a kind,” said his friend and London town crier, Bill Paul.

McDonald, 80, the published poet, the subject of books, videos, a song and a popular play, a local curiosity, and whose writings are part of Western University’s archives, was found dead Wednesday, in the house he lived in all his life. He died peacefully in his sleep.

“For the lifestyle he lived, I think that’s pretty exceptional,” said his cousin, Julie McDonald. “It was absolutely fitting he died peacefully.”

While funeral arrangements haven’t been completed, McDonald’s death has shaken people across the city who connected with him.

“I thought he would outlive all of us,” Paul said.

He was probably the most recognizable Londoner in the city and the closest thing to a cultural icon. If you didn’t know his name, you certainly knew who he was from seeing him downtown or along the Wellington Road strip.

“He seemed to be 80 all his life. He was always an old philosopher. He had arms like oak trees because he was always on foot and he was always carrying his bags of books around to show people,” said Paul.

“He just lived life according to his own terms,” said Jason Rip, the London playwright who wrote Beard: A Few Moments in the Life of Roy McDonald, who became a close friend.

“He was colour. London needs colourful characters. We have the reputation of being quite bland. The fact that everybody knows him, and everybody remembers him, says it all.”

While he was memorable, some people weren’t quite sure what to make of the scruffy man who seemed to be everywhere. There were whispers that

McDonald was a failed university professor, an eccentric millionaire, a homeless vagrant.

“He was none of those things, except maybe the eccentric part,” said Julie McDonald. “I’m sure he liked that, that there was some mystery surrounding him.”

Nicknamed “the Mayor of Richmond Row,” McDonald was a high-school dropout who embraced a bohemian lifestyle that rejected the trappings of regular work and family.

Instead, Paul said, he “considered the whole world his family and he treated us all like his brothers and sisters.”

McDonald forced people to look beyond his rumpled exterior and get to know him. He chose the written word over everything else, trusting that people could find him by tracking him to his favourite haunts or leaving him notes, because he didn’t own a phone.

“It wasn’t a lonely path,” said retired Free Press entertainment reporter James Stewart Reaney. “It was more he walked the city streets, parked himself and reached out to people, charmed people, entranced people.”

Born and raised in London, as a young man, McDonald wrote a column for The Free Press called Thoughts of a Teen-Ager. He became politically active in the 1960s, and marched with Martin Luther King Jr. in 1963.

He went to Woodstock music festival where he stood out because of his beard and three-piece suit.

But he also had battles with alcohol and drugs, but pushed away his addictions. The 1979 book, Pocketman, by Don Bell, was based on McDonald’s time in Montreal.

In the 1970s, McDonald published two books of his own, Living: A London Journal, in which he chronicled in detail a week in his life, and The Answer Questioned, a long poem he often recited.

But his writing, Rip said, wasn’t his greatest contribution. It was in “introducing people to each other and being a general booster of the arts community.”

And McDonald was everywhere, often embracing local work and connecting people with each other, simply by being a curiosity.

One of his hangouts was downtown’s City Lights Bookshop, where he’d search the stacks. “He gave everyone the opportunity to see beyond his facade if they chose to,” said Teresa Tarasewicz, the store’s co-owner.

“The facade was entertaining one way or the other, but there was also more to the man, and I think for our times, that’s the ultimate lesson for us as humans.”

And McDonald used that zest for his bohemian lifestyle as a platform for his thoughts and ideas. “The fact he was so dedicated to using the streets of London as his stage, that made him stand out,” she said.

His cousin agreed. “He knew a lot of people, he was accessible, he was always in the public and was always happy to talk with people and listen to people without judgment,” she said.

Not everyone would embrace him. Once he was booted off Western University’s campus, accused of being a vagrant, even though his books were for sale in the bookstore.

Once his ejection was publicized, he was welcomed back.

And the beard down to his belly, his signature look, often was touched and pulled. Rip said he understood that within the past couple of years, part of it was actually pulled off. “He said he kept it at home in a drawer,” Rip said.

And, to put it mildly, McDonald was a bit of a pack rat. He kept collections of his childhood toys, mountains of books and a diary from the time he was 18 that should be in his home.

Rip said he hopes those papers can be salvaged.

McDonald considered Rip’s play to be one of the greatest things to happen in his life. Back when it was first mounted 18 years ago, McDonald happily made at an appearance at the end with actor Jeff Culbert, both of them joyously singing My Way by Frank Sinatra.

* In ‘12 he told me, “My great Canadian dream is that we become a more just, caring, compassionate society.” I asked, How would you like to be perceived? “As a loving, compassionate, caring person who strives to benefit society.” – Don D’Haene.

* “Roy McDonald, my friend for life. He was the NICEST guy and had the BEST stories.He will be missed.” – Megan Schroder.

* “London just wont be the same without dear, sweet Roy. The first time I met him, he read me a poem and gave me a book.” – Jennifer Diplock.

* “A beautiful human being and kind man. London was better off for having him.’ – Nikki Federico Brew

This Week's Flyers

Comments

Postmedia is pleased to bring you a new commenting experience. We are committed to maintaining a lively but civil forum for discussion and encourage all readers to share their views on our articles. Comments may take up to an hour for moderation before appearing on the site. We ask you to keep your comments relevant and respectful. Visit our Community Guidelines for more information.